


Don't Save Me

by SkullyMane



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amputation, Amputee, Childhood Trauma, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Effeminate Male Character, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, Haphephobia, Like, Multi, Muscles, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Self-Harm, Strong Female Characters, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Superheroes, Superpowers, Supervillains, Thicc Male Character, and his gf is a strong girl that likes to beat ass, he's just a soft boy that likes to look pretty, we're talking pear shaped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-20 23:59:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkullyMane/pseuds/SkullyMane
Summary: This is the average, everyday story of how I fell in love with a Supervillain, asked her to kill me, helped save the world from a wannabe God and then eventually overcame the most horrifying evil of all: a long term, committed relationship....Wait, what do you mean only one of those things is actually average?





	1. Welcome Home (Vi)

**Author's Note:**

> I needed something to fill the hole left by a sore lack of sinfully vanilla M/F content in my stories so far.
> 
> Welcome to the cure for that emptiness.
> 
> (Jette is pronounced as "Yeh-Dah" and Vi is said like the first part of "Violet")

As far as I’m concerned, autumn has the absolute best kind of nights.

Instead of being hot and muggy like the summer or miserably cold like the winter, autumn nights are crisp, calm and filled to the brim with drops of twilight. The bugs are all but gone and sweating was only an issue if you were REALLY straining yourself. Not to mention how quiet the nights are. 

It makes clearing your head and organizing your thoughts nearly effortless.

Then again, I sorta have a bias when it comes to the weather. I seriously hate when the temperature swings to any kind of extreme.

I can’t help the fact I overheat super easily! 

Besides, I like being able to walk around outside without wearing enough layers to be mistaken for an onion.

Honestly, being able to just sit outside at night with nothing on but a t-shirt emblazoned with the truth (Thick Thighs Save Lives) and a pair of jean shorts is fantastic. I don’t need to worry about getting bit by mosquitoes and I can let my skin breathe without worrying about catching a cold. 

Not to mention the equally enjoyable sensation of being able to feel my exposed thighs squishing together whenever I sit down.

You just can’t get thigh cleavage like this with full length pants on~ 

So, thanks to the wonderful time of year that was autumn, I got to enjoy the night sitting in the garden. I’d spent a whole (overly hot and bug-filled) summer putting it together a few years ago instead of waiting out that gross, sticky and hot time of year indoors. 

The garden itself isn’t terribly huge, but it has plenty of room for several rows of assorted greens to grow. There’s even a birdbath to draw in some feathered cuties every once in a while. 

Running a fingertip along the smooth marble of the bench, which is currently supporting my more than substantial booty, gives me a moment to marvel at how weird it feels to remember a time when the garden wasn’t here.

I’d seriously considered abandoning the project more than once after starting it. 

My girlfriend’s encouragement had been the only thing keeping me from giving up and moments like tonight make me so thankful she’d been there to keep me from quitting like the lazy butt I am.

A deep breath lets me fill my nostrils with the scent of rich earth and a fiery tang of spice. The aroma of stuff I’d planted before getting ready for winter to, yet again, ruin my green thumb related fun. The garden’s smell acts like a calming drug and every muscle in my body relaxes as I drink it in.

If I close my eyes and let my mind wander, I can almost picture myself deep within an unknown forest filled with adventure and magic. Moonlight spills through the gaps in the forest’s canopy of trees and the ground is littered with rainbow fruit dropped from crystalline branches. 

The place my imagination conjures up is a serene haven where blood has never been spilled and flames have never burned. Walking in any direction eventually leads you back home because the forest understands that eventually you’d want to return to your friends and loved ones. 

...Knowing my luck though, I’d probably run into some sort of wood sprite that’d find a way to trick me into giving up my soul or murdering a nearby village of baby unicorns.

If my Dungeons and Dragons campaigns have taught me anything, it’s that I can somehow manage to turn even the most enchanting and innocent situations into a needlessly violent bloodbath.

A yawn, coupled with the realization I’d just spent nearly ten whole minutes thinking about a hypothetical situation because I’d been smelling the garden spices, tells me that I’m way sleepier than I originally thought.

An unexpected gust of wind blows over me and the sudden chill it brings makes me realize I’ll need to gather up the remaining stuff in the garden pretty soon. 

Winter seemed like it came earlier and earlier every year. 

And I was most certainly NOT pleased by the fact the cold would soon set in and kill off my precious, leafy children.

Couldn’t that frigid bitch of a season just take a year off for once??? 

It’d be great! 

Seriously, just think about how nice it would be to have an extra long autumn. You could get tons more pumpkin spice stuff and wear colorful scarves longer because you wanted to and not because it was so cold you’d DIE without them. 

Plus, you’d even have extra time to play in all the leaves lying around!

Assuming, of course, you ended up actually raking them instead of being so lazy that you sent not-so-subtle hints to your buff girlfriend that maybe having a big pile of leaves to jump into would be really fun and you’d just love her SO much if she did that for you.

After all, the rake was just SO heavy and Jette was just SO strong~

A contended sigh works its way out of my throat at the thought of a double length autumn, but alas, it simply isn’t meant to be. I’ll just have to suck it up and endure the horrors of yet another cruel winter with only the promise of spring’s sweet release to get me through it.

Okay, so spring wouldn’t be the ONLY thing keeping me from going insane once it got too cold to even dare doing anything outdoors. 

Ever since my girlfriend had moved in with me, winter turned out to be much easier to cope with for quite a few reasons.

A big one being having someone to snuggle and watch movies with under a veritable mountain of blankets, which turned out to be the universal cure for my seasonal depression. 

I wiggle my toes happily at the thought and get treated the sight of my now painted toenails. I’d spent most of the day working on them and I must say, they’d turned out to be some of my finest work yet. Even if doing it all by myself made the process take several hours longer than if I’d had Jette there to help.

So what if I only have one arm? I wasn’t going to let that stop me from expressing myself through the painting of my feet!

...And people said that being an art major in college wouldn’t have any post-graduation benefits.

My left foot showcases a series of small knights wielding various types of weaponry, from halberds to crossbows. Meanwhile, my right now consists of multiple fantasy races like goblins, elves, centaurs and even a dragon. I purposefully made the two groups face the center of my body and look ready for battle with one another. 

Lots of posturing and holding weapons high, that sorta thing. 

Well, they looked ready to fight if you got real close since they’re so tiny and all. I didn’t exactly have a ton of canvas to paint with, so they’d ended up being on the small side. The important thing is that I know what they’re supposed to be. 

Besides, the only other person that even had a chance of seeing them up close was my lovely Jette anyways.

I can already imagine the look on her face when I get around to telling her that my personal narrative is that the two groups are fighting to conquer the opposing foot. As time passes and the polish inevitably starts to wear away, I’ll translate that into “losses” sustained on the battlefield and put angelic versions of the lost fighters on my fingernails instead.

It’ll be like their own little Valhalla and I know my girlfriend will get a kick out of it. 

Odds are that she’ll want me to give a detailed description of how each warrior was slain so she’ll be able to pick which side she wants to win. I’ve got my money on Jette rooting for my right foot since she’s a closet nerd that can’t get enough of fantasy settings. 

A fact she’ll never openly admit it to anyone but me.

Putting aside my superb toenail paintings for the time being, I can feel more than a trace amount of anxious worry starting to bubble up in my chest. A cursory glance at my phone tells me it’s nearly 10 PM and Jette STILL isn’t home yet. 

I fully understand that Jette’s particular line of work means that sometimes her hours can be long and inconsistent. However, I may or may not have gotten more than a little spoiled with her coming back before 9 o’clock over the past couple weeks. 

Being a stay at home lover sounds romantic and all, but I start missing my buff mama something fierce once the sun goes down.

Sometimes, being in a committed relationship with a professional superhero is tough...

Sighing, I accept that I’ll just have to be patient.

That, and I’ll have to find something else to occupy my time before my admittedly over active imagination starts coming up with worst case scenarios to explain why she isn’t back yet.

Oh yeah, I still have those packs of promotional trading cards Jette’s work sent in the mail earlier today! 

A few quick skips and I’d retrieved them from the house before settling back onto my previous position on the garden bench. Luckily, the soft glow of the house’s lights are more than enough to illuminate the garden. 

It even has the added bonus of making me feel safe from the otherwise pretty spooky darkness that didn’t have streetlights to keep it at bay.

Yet another part of the charm that came with living away from the big city.

After settling back into a comfortable position on the bench, I look over the four packs of cards and can’t help but giggle a little.

They’re just so… over the top.

The cards are wrapped up in a glossy foil package that has the company’s logo of an angel decked out in silver-white armor, complete with an incandescent halo that takes on different rainbow hues depending on the angle you viewed it from. A closer look shows that the angelic figure’s wings are streaked with the same iridescent colors. 

To top things off, there’s an explosion of some kind in the background that can’t possibly have a purpose other than to make the whole scene look more “exciting” and “dynamic”.

...The angel is also duel wielding Uzis for reasons only the designer of the logo could ever hope to explain and, as if THAT wasn’t enough, directly above the halo is the company’s formal title: “SAVIOR” in Comic Sans. 

(According to Jette, it’s supposed to be some kind of bogus acronym, but nobody can seem to agree on exactly what each letter actually stands for.)

The back of the package has something like a short story on it, detailing the formation of SAVIOR and how much the organization has helped make the world a better place, yada yada yada.

After about a minute, I start thinking that the front of packaging is actually kind of cool and I immediately hate myself for it.

It’s hard for me to fully articulate just how EXTRA these things are. I mean, I knew that they were part of an expansion to the company’s promotional efforts. 

Something about trying to appeal to a younger demographic, but come on, how could they expect anyone to take this seriously?

...And yet I can’t stop imagining the angel gunning down Satan with its double Uzis and I know that the company’s tactic is working exactly as intended.

Clever motherfuckers.

Still shaking my head in disbelief, I tear open one of the packs using my teeth and one remaining hand. 

I STILL have no idea if the cards were intended to be used to play a game revolving around them or if they’re just part of a pure collecting gimmick. 

Regardless of their purpose, my first batch of cards is full of common rarity filth.

It’s just a bunch of no-name heroes that I honestly couldn’t give two shits about, so I put them off to the side. I’ll probably just trash them after I let Jette go through them herself later. Truth be told, the company probably expected her to give some sort of feedback on them since she actually worked for them, but I’m a slut for opening up trading cards. 

...and I really needed something to keep myself preoccupied.

Otherwise I’d just end up convincing myself that Jette, my wonderful and gorgeous girlfriend that I’d happily die for if required, had been devoured by an eldritch abomination from beyond the stars. 

Swallowed whole by a creature drawn to our planet by the massive amount of vore fetishists plaguing our poor world.

…

...

...I should really get back to focusing on the cards.

Opening the second pack yields suspiciously similar results to the first and it’s more of the same with the third pack as well.

By the time I get around to opening the fourth and final pack, I’m starting to get a little peeved. There’s just no way that my luck is so bad that I can’t even get something remotely worth keeping. 

I mean, come on!

THERE ARE 15 CARDS PER PACK AND SAVIOR ONLY HAS ABOUT 30 REGISTERED HEROES. THE NUMBERS SHOULD BE WITH ME, NOT AGAINST ME.

After taking a brief moment to vent by swearing up a storm to nobody in particular, I finish collecting myself and prepare for further disappointment as I rip the last pack of cards open.

The first three are duplicates of a hero called “Grenade Queen”.

(Because fuck you, what do you mean you don’t want more than one waste of space in a single package?)

Seeing that name for the 15th time (because the other packs contained several copies of that same FUCKING card too) nearly brings my piss to a boil. In spite of my rage, I still manage to find a shred of appreciation for the SAVIOR’s attention to detail though.

Each card has a hero’s name and their picture on the front, along with a brief description of their powers and personal stats on the back. 

Grenade Queen can apparently turn anything smaller than a baseball into an explosive. 

Which would’ve been pretty cool if her “Destructive Potential” stat hadn’t been a “D” due to the actual force of her explosions being more like a cherry bomb than a real grenade.

The next bunch of cards are more heroes I’d either never heard of or only knew about from talking to Jette, but still don’t much care for because they just aren’t all that interesting. However, as I shuffle to the last card in the pack, I see something that makes all the prior aggravation totally worth it.

The card at the very back has a holographic trim, which literally screams rare to my nerdy brain. As I pull it out to get a closer look, I feel an excited squeal building up inside me that refuses to be silenced.

...It’s Jette!!!!!

My girlfriend’s very own card has a very stylized font and the glossy picture must’ve been taken directly after she’d been in a fight because she was still decked out in her full combat regalia.

Jette’s “fightin’ dress”, as I like to call it, looks like the bizarre fusion of a medieval black knight’s armor and a deep sea dragonfish. 

The pitch black armor leaves her hands totally exposed and unprotected, but is still sturdy enough to withstand a tank blast at point blank range. Spikes resembling the aforementioned fish’s teeth are strategically placed at various points along Jette’s armor to let her easily draw her own blood via her hands while fighting.

The idea is impeccably practical, but still...

Even after all this time, thinking about the logistics behind how her particular superpower worked still made my stomach squirm a little bit. 

Less about the blood itself and more about how there wasn’t anything I could do about hating the need for her to shed blood in order to fight.

Other than be a whiny baby about it every time she was around to hear it, of course.

Despite most of her body being covered up by the armor, I know all too well that she’s hiding a well oiled machine of a body underneath it all. I’ve spent more than a few nights just tracing all of the defined curves of her abs and I may or may not have actually been able to grate some cheese on them when she was sleeping once.

The day long cold shoulder I’d got after she’d woken up had almost been worth it too~ 

In the card’s picture Jette has her helmet removed, allowing full view of her wonderfully sculpted face and unfairly silky, coal hair. Her skin is a pale white that could make even freshly fallen snow look filthy and each of her veins and blood vessels look like streaks of midnight paint.

Her power is always swimming just beneath her skin and when she lets it run free, you can literally see it moving. 

I never really have the opportunity to see her like this in person, since her appearance always normalizes when I’m around her. In a way, it’s almost like I’m looking at her for the first time when I stare at the photo. 

Just seeing her electric blue eyes in the form of a picture is enough to make my heart race and my face heat up.

...Christ, the things I want that woman to do to me are matched only by the number of things I want her to do to me AGAIN.

I examine the front of the card for way longer than necessary and continue making excited noises the whole time.

 

[The Midnight Blood Hero: J E T B L A C K]

 

I can hardly contain my glee at actually holding a collector’s item based on my very own girlfriend.

I start smiling like an absolute idiot as I turn it over to look at the flavor text and details on the card’s back. I’m very pleased to note that even the reverse side has holographic elements and a unique layout that hadn’t been shared with any of the other common rarity cards.

Like the 15 fucking copies of Grenade Queen, as a totally random example.

 

[JET BLACK can call upon the forces of the unknown by drawing out alien creatures from portals made of her own blood. To this day, nobody knows for certain where the portals lead to or why the beings on the other side follow JET BLACK’s commands, but one thing is for certain: SAVIOR is glad she’s on our side now!]

 

Underneath the text is Jette’s personal stats and they’re either all a “?” or an “S”, which I can only assume is because she’s actually stupidly strong. 

That, and playing up her mysterious nature is more appealing to the fans than simply making her straight up overpowered.

...Assuming of course, that you could actually DO something with these cards besides stick them in a binder for safekeeping.

Right as I’m wiggling my bare toes excitedly at the thought of showing Jette how freakin’ COOL her own card turned out to be, the woman in question finally returns home. 

The sound of wet tearing and something being crunched multiple times gives me all the heads up I need to get ready for a warm and hug-filled welcome.

Honestly, the fact her armor is technically an organic construct she pulls out of and stores in her blood portals is something I don’t think she’s told anyone other than me. 

It makes sense though, if you thought about how public opinion might be affected by the fact Jette went out to fight crime literally WEARING a monster from another dimension.

Parents would most definitely not want their kids idolizing someone that used Cthulhu as body armor.

My (now caramel haired) girlfriend eventually steps out from the darkness surrounding the garden and I leap into her arms before she can even say “I’m home”. 

I smash into her with as much force as my admittedly small frame could muster, but she still catches me without missing a beat. Not wanting to waste any time, I start showering her with all the affection I can. 

After all, she’s been working since before I’d even got out of bed this morning. 

I rub my cheek into the crook of her neck and can’t help but start purring like a big, goofy cat at the feeling of her cool skin against mine.

“Welcome home, my honey bunches of oats~”

To her credit, the love of my life only blushes a little bit at the tooth decaying sweetness in my voice. 

She’s still so easy to fluster, even after all the time we’ve spent together and seeing her blush because of me always fills me to the brim with pure sunshine. Jette gently wraps her arms around me and as soon as I feel the outline of her powerful hands on my back, I melt into her like ice cream left outside on the fourth of July.

“I missed you, Vi.”

Fuck, I missed hearing Jette’s smokey voice so much it hurt. 

...Even though she’d only been gone for a single day.

I stifle further purring noises and instead start lavishing light kisses all along her collarbone before looking up into her rust colored eyes. As happy as I am to see her again after spending the whole day alone, I can’t stop the twinge of worry that sprouts when I see just how TIRED she looks. 

To say nothing of the numerous scratches and bruised spots I can make out under her somewhat torn-up civilian clothes.

She’s clearly had a much rougher day than me, without a doubt.

“Jette, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

The corner of Jette’s mouth twitches ever so slightly as she’s reminded for the millionth time that I can read her like an open book. 

Well, it’s really more like I’ve already read her cover to cover so many times that I can recite all of it from memory. 

Jette gently lowers me so that my feet are finally touching the ground again. 

(A reminder of just how tall my girlfriend is and it never stops being attractive as all hell.)

“It’s nothing major, I just...”

Jette still has her hands on my shoulders and when she trails off, her eyes wander away from me and gaze off into the distance. 

I let one of my own hands drift up until it settles down on top of hers and I squeeze just hard enough for her attention to swing back my way.

“I know what you need, babe. The never failing remedy for any and all worries, no matter how big or small!”

Jette already knows what I’m about to say, but she lets me finish without interrupting.

“A good old fashioned bath with your favorite boyfriend!”


	2. Do You Remember? (Vi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Check it out, dude!
> 
> THERE'S SOME SEX IN THIS CHAPTER!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (From now on the character that the chapter's POV is told from will be included in each chapter title, so be sure not to miss that to avoid any future confusion)
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter serves as the last of the "prequel" section of the story.
> 
> Get ready for some fuckin' explanations behind how things got to this point from now on.

Even though she clearly still has something weighing heavily on the back of her mind, Jette can’t stifle a tiny chuckle when I pull out the same speech I always use when trying to cheer her up.

I like to think that repetition is part of my charm, but being cute as a pear-shaped button probably helps a lot too~

Which helps explain why she doesn’t put up a fight when I keep hold of her hand and drag her towards the front door, despite the fact Jette is more than capable of overpowering me.

Hell, she could probably overpower a thousand of me at once if she wanted to and I find that particular factoid so sexy that it physically hurts.

I don’t stop leading the way once we get inside, but we do slow down for a moment so Jette can take off her combat boots and I can wipe off some of the garden soil from the bottom of my feet. 

Once the threat to our clean floor is taken care of, I resume tugging on Jette’s hand until we finally enter the bathroom.

If there’s one thing about our house I’m overly proud of besides the garden, it’s the bathroom hands down.

It’s open air and way, WAY bigger than it has any right to be. 

The bathroom looks like it belongs in a fancy spa at the top of a one hundred story building that only people with too much money can afford and I love it almost as much as I love Jette. 

...Almost.

There’s even a wall between the section with the toilets and the bathing area, since I really don’t like the idea of those two activities mixing together anymore than they really have to. I mean, a lot of the comfort can be taken out of anything when there’s pooping going on within eyesight.

The price of a wall was paltry compared to the removal of such a thing. 

I’d spent a pretty penny having the bathroom put in back when I first inherited the house, but it’s proven to be more than worth it since then. The initial reason behind wanting so much room was so that I wouldn’t potentially make a mess when I finally killed myself, but that’s long since stopped being a part of the love I have for our bathroom.

As of the present day, I just like being able to move around a lot and do whatever I want while getting clean, so sue me for making use of the space available for it!

Entering the bathroom signals the first steps in my devious plan and I make that fact known when I put my hands onto Jette’s powerful frame. 

There’s simply no way that Jette doesn’t already know what my plan is, but she plays along and just softly smiles when I start to undress her. 

I take careful steps to ensure I’m being as gentle as possible though, since her body is still covered in a plethora of cuts and bruises. As I expose more and more of her damaged skin, I feel yet another twinge of guilt for no longer being to heal her like I could when we’d first met.

Back before the world had almost ended, it would’ve only taken a few seconds coupled with a quick kiss to erase all signs of injury from her body.

...Oh well, I’d simply have to settle for a slower and more hands on first-aid approach after the we got cleaned up~

Jette’s tank top comes off without incident, but when I tug down the front of her jeans she lets out a hissing sound that tells me I must have accidentally hurt her somehow.

I’d already been overthinking things while waiting for her to get home earlier, so me freaking out a little over this was to be expected really. 

I shamelessly wear my heart on my singular sleeve now and Jette’s far too used to it at this point, so no harm no foul I suppose.

“Honey, are you okay!?!”

Jette’s body instantly stiffens up like a board and she freezes up at her full height of nearly 7 feet tall as my voice catches her somewhat off-guard.

“Y-yes, I’m fine! I’m just a little… tender from today. It’s okay though, Vi.”

Jette flexes one of her herculean arms with a wink aimed in my direction.

“I’m tough as nails, remember?”

I know that I’m overreacting, but just the thought of hurting Jette is enough to make me forget how ridiculously durable my girlfriend actually is. A superheroine like her has dealt with things far worse than a boyfriend’s hands accidentally putting pressure on a bruise.

Still though...

Being able to withstand getting shot, crashed into by vehicles going over 80 MPH and having whole buildings dropped on her didn’t make Jette invincible; it just made her somewhat harder to hurt. 

Still feeling mildly guilty, I search her lower body for the wound I must’ve agitated when I took her pants off. I try super hard not to drool (and only somewhat succeed) over the sharp definition of her muscular lower body and eventually locate the offender: a nasty bruise that’s already turned a rather worrisome shade of yellowish green.

“Jette! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it!”

I feel the beginning of tears start to well up in the corner of my eyes, despite knowing full well that I don’t have any real reason to cry. It’s just that moments like these remind me of a time where I cared so little about how much pain Jette endured that I’d actually gone out of my way to cause some for her myself.

Not even giving up my arm feels like enough of a punishment for some of the things I did and said to her back then.

The only thing that stops the waterworks from coming out is Jette’s hand tenderly cupping the side of my face.

I reflexively look up into her red and brown eyes, the ones that turn a piercing blue when she uses her power, and I see the same smile that melted my heart all those years ago. The smile that, even when Jette looks at the still somewhat blackened stump of my left arm, still finds a way to show me that it’s all going to be okay.

“...Don’t cry, my little Vi. A face as sweet as yours looks much better when it wears a smile.”

In an instant, any semblance of tears vanish and I resolve to spoil the ever loving SHIT out of the wonderful lady I’m lucky enough to call my girlfriend for the rest of the night. She was going to get the fucking full course special of tender love and care tonight, whether she was ready for it or not.

No. Not just tonight.

For the rest of our lives too, if I have any say in the matter.

Which I do.

...A lot of say, as a matter of fact!

So, I give Jette an enthusiastic nod and finally get around to turning the water on. 

Soon the bathing area is full of steam and I’m rubbing fragrant shampoo onto Jette’s scalp with enough strength to make her groan in appreciation. I let the fingertips of my remaining arm massage the foam into her hair and I start humming the melody of a song I’d listened to earlier today while painting my nails.

Jette is used to me occasionally singling like this when we bathe, so after a little while she picks up the general rhythm and joins me even though I’m positive she’s never heard this song before. The dual chorus of our voices only match up out of sheer coincidence instead of skill because Jette is almost totally tone deaf. I don’t mind in the slightest though, I just keep washing her hair and loving the gentle thrum of her voice catching in the steam like a freight train made of sea foam.

We eventually mess each other up with our conflicting singing and laugh as we rinse each other off and I love her for it so much.

Sending all the suds down the drain isn’t the end of our bath time though. I make it abundantly clear that Jette is NOT stepping foot out of the bathroom until she lets me dress her remaining wounds. I’d done the best I could to scrub the dirt off her without opening any of the scabs that had already formed, but she still has a few lines of angry red that required my expertise.

She opens her mouth to say that it’s fine and I don’t need to worry, but I shush her with a slender finger and quickly grab some gauze and sterile pads from the constantly-needs-to-be-restocked first aid kit.

Less than ten minutes later and I’ve covered everything I can in kisses and firm bandages.

Now that her injuries have my seal of medical approval and we’re all squeaky and clean, I ask Jette when the last time she ate was. 

I only allow her ten seconds of trying to remember before I practically RUN into the kitchen to pull some leftovers together into a late night meal. 

No way am I going to let MY girlfriend go to sleep on an empty stomach! 

...Honestly, what would my beautiful meathead do without me constantly feeding her gains?

It turns out that Jette is way hungrier than she realized because, after scarfing down enough shrimp fried rice to feed three people, she sheepishly asks me if there’s anything else to eat. 

I do my very best not to latch on and start covering her in smooches again when I hear her tell me how delicious the rice is. 

Instead, I opt to fish around in the fridge until I’m brandishing a tupperware container with the remains of my own unfinished dinner inside.

I’ve always had a hard time working up an appetite in general, so it’s no surprise that eating nearly a whole homemade, stuffed crust pepperoni pizza this afternoon left me without the tummy space to finish my own helping of shrimp and rice earlier.

A quick re-heating later (using the oven and not the microwave because I’m not a fucking savage) and Jette is finally able to quell the bottomless behemoth that is her stomach.

Now with a fully fed and obviously exhausted girlfriend in front of me, I coquettishly suggest that we make our way to bed for the night. 

Jette, in spite of her all too apparent bone weariness, picks up on my not-so-subtle hint and we make our way to my second favorite room in the house.

The bathroom still wins overall, but the bedroom just barely places second place in my heart because I can’t wash my hair in bed.

Once inside the bedroom, I gently pull Jette down with me until we’re laying side by side on the oh so fresh sheets I’d specifically washed and put out for tonight.

They’re light purple with blue stars dotting them that look enough like gemstones that I sometimes foolishly try to pick them up off the soft fabric when I wake up too early.

There’s no way in hell MY lady was going to come home to anything less than clean linen! 

Not on my watch, buster!

I spend far too long just staring into Jette’s copper and sunset eyes and it takes a kiss on the tip of my nose to remind me that I’m supposed to be the one taking the lead tonight.

I puff out my cheeks in fake annoyance at the temporary role reversal before I lean in and give her a real kiss.

You know the kind. A kiss where your tongues are playfully fighting for dominance and your hands can’t help but get involved before too long. The type of kiss where everything melts away and you forget about the need to breathe.

I taste a world that nobody else can possibly imagine when I kiss Jette.

I taste the sensation of starlight curling inside my stomach, the whisper of days drenched in laughter and the tender caress of an ocean filled with warm bells crashing through my very essence with the force of a meteoric impact.

Even though we’re just kissing and hold each other in a way that most elderly couples would consider tame, I still can’t restrain the honeysuckle moans blooming from my mouth.

Jette just looks at me with a triumphant expression that I’m forced to interpret as a challenge. Without any warning, I pull away from her and lower my face down to her waist with all the grace of a hungry snake.

She knows what’s coming next and her face shifts from smug to a mixture of anticipation and embarrassment. Jette’s always been reluctant to simply receive without giving back, but I think I’ve managed to teach her that sometimes it’s okay to just enjoy my one sided gifts.

And oh boy, am I ever about to give her a gift<3

With a devilish lick of my lips, I wrap my fingers around the waistband of Jette’s pajama bottoms and pull. Inch after snow white inch of wonderfully crafted skin is revealed as I wiggle her pants further down.

Eventually, I’m rewarded for my efforts with an unobstructed view of her underwear.

(A pair of black boyshorts that totally suit her more than anyone else will ever understand)

I avoid messing with Jette’s underwear for the moment though and instead, I spread my attention around her upper thighs and her stomach. My full lips leave feather-light kisses that ghost along a path only I know the end of.

Every so often I impishly break my gentle rhythm with a forceful nibble on Jette’s particularly sensitive spots.

The inner part of her hips.

The outside of her left thigh, where she has barely any scars.

And, last but not least, the space directly above her belly button that squeezes out a light whimper from her lips.

With a look showing Jette the mischievous glint in my eyes, I’m able to see how she’s anxiously biting her lower lip in response to my kisses. I smile to myself as much as to her and decide I’ve spent enough time teasing her.

I hook my index finger into her boyshorts and shimmy them down with a deliberate slowness I KNOW drives Jette crazy.

When I get them down to her ankles, she pulls her feet through them without prompting and I can tell she’s even more excited about this than she’s been letting on. The damp patch in the middle of her underwear is proof enough that she’s ready for phase two of my foolproof plan.

Good. 

She’s earned some special treatment~

Before I get down to brass tacks though, I take a full minute to just… admire her.

For someone with such a toned and sculpted body, you’d never be able to guess how soft and supple her pussy is. If Jette’s arms are like two phythons, capable of crushing anything they wanted, then her womanhood is a soft, and welcoming kitten.

A kitten that loves to be stroked and treated like a queen<3

Something that takes me somewhat by surprise is the fact that Jette managed to shave in between us bathing and arriving in the bedroom. I can only guess that she’d done it during the brief time I’d left her alone to clean up the dishes left over from dinner.

I give Jette’s exposed mound a long, sloppy lick from base to crown before looking back up at her.

“Was someone expecting some oral attention tonight or were you just in the mood to do a little personal grooming~?”

Jette opens her mouth to answer and that’s when I strike.

This time, I stop letting her adjust to my tempo and go for intense, staccato beats with my tongue that kill her retort before it ever reaches the open air.

I proceed to thoroughly drown myself in the tangy scent, smell and feel of Jette’s pussy with every single muscular inch of my tongue. She’s forced to endure an oral bombardment akin to a dying man that’s finally found food after several years of starvation. My ministrations are merciless and I apply my remaining hand to spread her outer lips so I can better stimulate the weak points hidden inside.

To put it bluntly, I eat that pussy like it’s Christmas dinner and I just found Jesus~

Jette, for all her strength and experience as a hero and a villain, is helpless in the face of my talented oral organ’s relentless assault. The wetness of my own saliva is soon hopelessly overwhelmed by the flow of her own liquid arousal. It serves as a sign that I’m doing well and, while that’s wonderful to me in its own right, I still want more from her before I push her over the finish line.

So, I pull back after one more full length lick of her now swollen mound and look up at her with pleading eyes.

Jette’s own face is covered by her right arm, her attempt at stifling any noises and a natural reaction to the near overwhelming stimuli of my mouth.

When she notices that the fireworks in her core have died down to mere embers without properly bursting into explosions of mind numbing light, she opens her eyes and when our gazes meet I can tell she knows exactly what I’m waiting for.

I hear her mumble something under her breath, but her arm blocks it enough that I can’t make it all out.

“What was that, sweet pea? I couldn’t quite hear you~”

Jette sends a pleading look full of unvoiced desperation and desire my way, but I pretend like I don’t notice.

I just innocently smile and wait.

It only takes around 10 seconds before Jette’s voice breaks the silence once more. This time it’s loud and clear, with a tone that’s simultaneously demanding and somewhat exasperated.

“...Eat me out until... I can’t feel my legs, Vi. You do… such a f-fucking good job and I just want to feel your tongue ruin me... for anyone else.”

My girlfriend’s praise sends me from playful sex partner mode into full on, unstoppable fuck machine in no time flat. My own arousal, painfully evident in the throbbing bulge currently tenting the front of my own pajamas, multiplies to the point where I know I’ll cum from giving oral alone. Jette only swears when she’s pushed to the brink of her self restraint and hearing her do it fires me up far more than the word “fucking” ever should.

Fuck me, this is what I LIVE for~!

I dive back into Jette’s crotch with a renewed vigor that swiftly turns her into a shivering, mewling wreck. I don’t want to disappoint her, can’t ever consider disappointing her after hearing compliments like that. 

I spell out sentences with my tongue inside her lightly spasming inner walls that lay out in no uncertain terms how I’ll cherish her forever and ever.

Jette can’t stop the moans and gasps with just her arm anymore. She writhes on top of the sheets with an ecstasy only I could ever hope to provide and she knows it. So, when her core clenches and the corner of her vision tints with smears of blinding white, Jette calls out my name.

She says it with such passion that I couldn’t hope to stop my own release, even if I wanted to.

Which I really, really don’t.

“Vvvvvvvvviiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-!!!!!!!!!”

Jette’s body curls in on itself as her orgasm tears through every beautiful inch of it. Her powerful thighs clamp down on my head, but I soldier forwards and continue milking her release like it’s the only one she’ll ever have again.

I might not be functionally immortal anymore, but I can still handle a little pressure to the noggin without any dire consequences.

“Ffff-! Ffffffuuuuu-!!!! KKK-KKKK!!!!!!!!”

 

Jette sees stars belonging to an unknown galaxy burst behind her eyes, her vision now full of something you have to FEEL to properly know. Her legs lock down tighter in response to the full body contractions she’s now pulsing out from within the depths of her spine.

As I feel Jette’s shaking and crying out, I lose what little restraint I’m pretending I had and fill my own underwear with a load of creamy jizz that soon starts oozing down my thighs. I see stars of my own as my dick fires off rope after rope of liquid proof of my own climax. 

Even in the throes of my own orgasm, I still find a way to direct its effects onto Jette to increase the tail end of hers.

I gasp into the soft flesh of her pussy and suck on the yielding skin like it’s an exotic fruit from lands yet to be tread by mortals. I start to rave on about how wonderful Jette is, how amazing and beautiful and perfect she’s always been and how I’ll never love anyone a quarter as much as I love her.

Each and every single one of my words sends vibrations thrumming through Jette’s core and she cums for a second time because of them.

When her body eventually goes limp, all of her limbs full of an exhaustion and rendered flimsier than wet spaghetti, I reluctantly let my tongue leave her crotch.

My mouth is sore, my own cum is staining my pajamas and the sides of my head are somewhat tender from the force of Jette’s thighs, but I’m positively radiating satisfaction regardless.

I let my head fall onto one of Jette’s thighs as we both struggle to catch our breath.

While I wait for her senses to stabilize after I’d essentially come dangerously close to permanently burning them out, I count the number of aftershocks still running through Jette’s body from toe tip to eyes.

...One.

I love her so much.

...Two.

How did I ever survive without her?

...Three.

I want her to be happier than anyone has EVER been.

...Four.

My internal count is put on hold when Jette regains her voice. It’s husky, tired and dripping with a satisfaction so thick that I could pour it over pancakes.

“...Babe, c’mere...”

I drag my own exertion heavy limbs across her large frame until I’m draped over her chest and my face is almost touching hers. We spend a brief moment just laying together like that. Nothing else in the world matters to me more than her. The entire planet could vanish without warning right now and I wouldn’t give half of a shit.

If I can still see Jette’s absolutely divine smile that makes her eyes shine like bronze diamonds, then I’ll be okay no matter what happens.

The spell is broken when Jette inches forwards and lightly kisses me with a tenderness I’d never known before meeting her.

She smiles at me again.

I can’t stop the joyful tears that lazily drip down my face and I grab onto Jette with my one arm and hope I never have to let go.

As she wraps me up in her embrace, I feel sleep rushing up to overtake me. Jette still hasn’t told me what exactly it was that was bothering her, but that’s okay. We don’t need to dissect each and every little thorn that finds itself stuck in our sides. She’ll tell me when she’s ready and even if she doesn’t, I’ll still be there to soothe the aches her pain leaves behind.

We have all the time in the world to work through any sadness because we can do it together. 

Sleep’s grip intensifies as I let my eyes fall shut to the steady rhythm of Jette’s breathing. I welcome the fading of my consciousness because I know I’ll wake up next to her. I used to wake up alone, with nothing but the hope of my own death to pull me out of bed.

Those days feel like they belong to someone else now.

I wonder if Jette still remembers them…?


End file.
